As she is immersed in the once still water,
the now trickling water,
the water made blue by the tiles beneath
the memory comes
of the day she swam
stroke after wide stroke,
thinking about making dinner or doing laundry or baking a cake
for her daughter’s birthday.

She opens her eyes to the noise of children
jumping into the water in red swimsuits—
body after small body
penetrating the pool
with laughter that resonates underwater.

Her eyes sting and she wonders
if they’ve become as red as the swimsuits,
if her skin has become as blue as the water,
if her heart has become as blue too.

She resurfaces and swims to the edge,
pushing the water away with each stroke,
refusing thoughts of dinner or laundry or cake,
for today there is no one to do these things for.